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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759569">Signs of Maturity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsxbride/pseuds/devilsxbride'>devilsxbride</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:21:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsxbride/pseuds/devilsxbride</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the way, Dean has forgone his tendencies to throw himself under the bus at every opportunity given. He was allowed to be a little selfish, and if that meant a bit of domesticity with Cas, then so be it. </p>
<p>Or the one where Sam is a good, supportive brother, everyone's having individual and interpersonal revelations and no one's self destructive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Signs of Maturity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I read an article about signs of emotional maturity in men and decided to use it as a prompt for my writing practice and then I figured: "Eh, might as well fit Destiel into it". This is me trying to delve into the world of fanfiction writing so one day I can write lots of lengthy angsty stuff that my heart really desires. Thanks for reading this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shut up, old man.” Dean grumbles. He takes a gulp of the sparkling cider straight out of the bottle, and <em>huh,</em> it’s not nearly as bad as he’d expected it to be. The sweetness is a nice change of taste in comparison to the usual bitter tang he goes for.</p>
<p>His left arm is still resting on the backrest of the sofa. He’d put it there sometime during the advertisements preceding the ridiculous bee documentary him and Cas made plans to watch, and to his surprise, Sam didn’t even bother communicating confusion over the gesture with those expressive brows of his. Dean had risked a glance (<em>two even)  </em>at his brother, right upon making himself comfortable in the new position, a silent plea of ‘<em>don’t you dare say anything’ </em>ready at his lips to interrupt whatever Sam was about to point out.</p>
<p>It proved unnecessary.</p>
<p>“Dude, you’re older than me.” Sam snorted, sporting a lopsided smile. His cheek rested against his knuckles, elbow propping him against the table on the left of Dean. His eyes did not once leave the book he was so immersed in.</p>
<p>Dean had asked if he wanted to join the movie night, but Sam retorted: “Someone still needs to do the research, Dean.” And Dean did not lose time muttering under his breath “That sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.” Reading wasn’t his favorite past time activity, and Cas <em>did </em>ask nicely, a week in advance too, if they could watch this thing so…he wasn’t <em>slacking. </em>He was being a good friend. Busy keeping promises and stuff.</p>
<p>“Yeah, well…I’m old too.” Dean quipped lamely.</p>
<p>And there it was, the famous furrow of his little brother’s brows, but Dean was way too busy glancing behind his back for signs of Cas to dwell on how lame that retort was, even for him. <em>Especially</em> for him.</p>
<p>So he was a little distracted, sue him. There was something distracting about glancing behind his shoulder, only to catch glimpses of Cas making the second batch popcorn in the background, because they’d rummaged through first before the documentary even began. Seeing him in Dean’s gray, printed AC/DC tee, his body a bit too lean for the shirt not to hang loosely on him, trying to figure out how not to burn the kernel after having insisted to make them ‘<em>the old fashioned way’</em>, humming one of the songs from Dean’s mixtape out of tune….</p>
<p> “I don’t like it when you psychoanalyze me.” Dean interrupted his own train of thoughts, adding.</p>
<p>Earlier, Sam had made a comment, saying: “Look at you. Choosing to spend your Friday night chilling and watching Netflix –“ and no, Dean did not have the will to explain to Sam what the phrase <em>actually meant</em> “-instead of going to a strip club and drinking booze. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s a sign of emotional maturity.”</p>
<p>He was only barely uncomfortable with this change in his behavior being pointed out, though not as much as he’d have been mere months ago. Things have changed. Wasn’t he allowed to change, too?</p>
<p>And it’s not like he was making a conscious effort not to have his usual way of fun. It’s just that this one Friday he made a promise, <em>to a friend, </em>and he was keeping it and it was not that big of a deal. Why did Sam have to make it a big deal?</p>
<p>“I was just giving you a compliment, you realize that, right?” Sam responded, and though Dean wasn’t looking at him – because he was focused on the plot unraveling, so he could summarize to Cas what he’d missed while making them popcorn – he knew Sam had that inquisitive arch of brow plastered on his face.</p>
<p>Dean had intended to leave it at that, he really had. But the longer he stayed silent in attempts to immerse himself in the show, the louder that thrum under his skin grew. He felt…acknowledged and that was just something he didn’t know how to deal with.</p>
<p>“Cas asked. I just thought it’d be nice to do this for him, okay?” Dean felt compelled to add and try to shrug it off nonchalantly. <em>Whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite</em>, Cas had said once and this time, Dean tried to listen.</p>
<p>Usually, Sam’s and his little ping-pong of retorts would’ve died by now. Dean knew that was more often than not due to his brother being merciful and knowing when not to push.</p>
<p>Sam also knew when he <em>should, </em>or rather could, push.</p>
<p>“So that’s what you were doing the other night, too?” Sam asked, incredulous in one part, sounding like he was aiming for something in other. “When Cas came in after a week of being AWOL, just to disappear again. You were letting him go ‘cause he asked you to?”</p>
<p>Two weeks ago, Cas had informed them of needing to leave and take care of a certain ‘<em>personal situation’</em>. He hadn’t given them much, but he insisted on having to deal with it alone. When he’d returned, he looked pissed and hurt, and overall defeated. He reminded Dean of how Sam looked after dad wouldn’t show up for Christmas, despite Dean insisting he’d come. He looked disappointed.</p>
<p>Cas also entered the bunker and passed right by Dean, going straight to his room, only to return with a half-empty duffle bag fifteen minutes later, ready to leave yet again.</p>
<p>Although every fiber of Dean’s inquisitive nature wanted to probe, and the insecure part of him wanted to beg for Cas to stay – because whenever Cas left, there was never any rules to when or even <em>whether </em>he’d come back – Dean didn’t do either. For the most part, Dean was just concerned and in the end, it was his desire to be of help that won over. He’d simply wrapped his fingers around Cas’s wrist on his way out, gentle enough for the other to slip through should he want to, and he asked – <em>offered:</em> “Do you need anything?”</p>
<p>At first, Cas looked like he wanted to snap for being stopped in his tracks, but the genuine nature of Dean’s words and actions deterred him from doing so. His shoulders relaxed visibly and he deflated for a second there.</p>
<p>“I need some space, Dean.” He’d said, and Dean had later recognized that for the first time in a while, his traitorous, self-deprecating mind didn’t assume that those words translated to ‘space from <em>him’. </em>Castiel needed space to deal with whatever had happened and Dean was certain, when the time is right, he’d be let in on the matter.</p>
<p>Though it went unsaid, the way their eyes lingered on one another’s reassured Dean that Cas would, indeed, come back. And Dean believed him.</p>
<p>“Yeah, man. That’s what you do. People ask you to give them space and-“ <em>they come back.</em> “-you’re respectful of their request.” Dean responded.</p>
<p>An audible thump of a book getting closed drew Dean’s attention from the screen to his brother. Sam was looking at him in that ‘<em>who are you and what have you done to Dean’</em> manner and Dean wasn’t really sure what he’d said to elicit that response.</p>
<p>“That’s what <em>you do</em>? You honor people’s requests, even if you – <em>especially </em>when you don’t like them?” Sam rephrased. And okay, maybe Dean was starting to get an idea of what his brother was referencing, but that was different. If he hadn’t tricked Sam into letting Gadreel posses him, Dean would’ve been left without Sam forever. And letting Cas go – Dean trusted he’d come back. There was nothing unusual about honoring that request.</p>
<p>Okay, there was <em>something</em> unusual about him honoring that request. Or rather, the unusual thing didn’t really have anything to do with him honoring it, but with him being so sure that Cas will come back.</p>
<p>Somewhere along the line, Dean had gotten comfortable and stopped anticipating the worst. And Cas never gave him another reason to doubt his resolve.</p>
<p>Sam was right. This wasn’t the first Friday night he’d decided to spend in. And it wasn’t just that. He hadn’t bedded a random chick in a while now and his bottle of whiskey wasn’t considerably emptier since the beginning of the month.</p>
<p>Two nights ago, when Sam said one of their hunter buddies had contacted to ask if they’re up for a joint handling of a rouge vamp ‘<em>for funsies’</em>, Dean had said there’s really no need for four of them to handle one fledgling.</p>
<p>“Maybe Cas and I could stay and organize around the bunker.” He’d said. “I could use a day off. Maybe even eight hours of sleep, like a regular human. Not throw myself into unnecessary danger, you know?”</p>
<p>He even made them a pie, with twice as less of an amount of sugar than the recipe called for.</p>
<p>Dean didn’t even mind when Cas forgot to take the pie out on time, as Dean had entrusted him to do while he went for a shower, and the pie ended up having a slightly burnt crust. Dude seemed so panicked, like he’d done the greatest offence to Dean, repeatedly beating himself over not being able to ‘<em>handle the one thing Dean asked of him’ </em></p>
<p>Cas was quick to explain how he was mesmerized by Dean’s lattice work and he ended up staring right through the oven glass for a bit too long, somehow managing to miss the golden notes turning darker. He looked like he was expecting to be scolded for offering such a stupid explanation, and looking back at it now, Dean could understand that brushing the whole ordeal off instead of defending the sanctity of pie seemed a bit uncharacteristic for him.</p>
<p>In Dean’s defense, Cas had in fact used the word <em>mesmerized </em>and Dean’s ears have never heard a higher praise. So yeah, he was rather distracted by the look of awe in Cas’s eyes and his craftsmanship being the reason for it.</p>
<p>Although Cas had spent next twenty minutes apologizing profusely, Dean insisted that it was quite alright. He even nudged Cas’s shoulder once, tiny smirk dancing upon his lips as he teased “So, you were spellbound by my handiwork, huh?”</p>
<p>Seeing rosy specks bloom against the side of Cas’s neck and rush right up to his cheeks was well worth the express forgiveness Cas felt like he needed to coax straight out of Dean.</p>
<p>Pulling himself back from the trip down the memory lane, Dean opened his mouth to respond to Sam, except - what was he even supposed to say?</p>
<p>He couldn’t hear the popping of the popcorn anymore and it was probably a matter of a minute or two before Cas joined them. Dean was quite certain that this conversation they ended up delving into, and discoveries that they’d made along the way, required more time than that.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sam.” Dean finally settled for.</p>
<p>What went unsaid was that maybe, for once, Dean actually didn’t feel like he had any sorrows to numb with liquor or meaningless sex. He didn’t think he had to throw himself in front of every bullet fired. If Sam – Or Cas – were threatened, and he could physically shield them from any harm, he most certainly would, but Dean wanted to unlearn that as his first instinct. He wanted for his brain to equip him with alternatives where the end result was all of them being alive and alright, first.</p>
<p>Maybe, <em>just maybe,</em> protecting people he loved didn’t have to come at the expense of his own life.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, this took a while.” Cas walked right back in, completely oblivious to the conversation that had been happening in the meantime “I had to separate the good ones from the burnt ones and I figured I should clean the pot right away, or else it might become an impossible venture later.”</p>
<p>It took Dean extra five seconds to finally break the eye contact with his brother and fully devote his attention back to Cas.</p>
<p>“You should’ve just thrown the pot away. Those are ancient – we should probably buy some new ones.” Dean took another gulp of his beverage before leaning to place it on the coffee table.</p>
<p>Cas slipped back into his old position, Dean’s arm still resting against the sofa, mere ghost-of-a-touch away from the angel’s back. There was still a dormant part of him that felt as though he <em>needed, </em>but certainly not wanted, to pull it away and rearrange himself now that Cas was back. Before Dean’s fear of being vulnerable had the time to force him into submission, Cas had already casually slotted himself against Dean’s arm, deciding that it would serve as a comfortable pillow alternative for his neck.</p>
<p>This time around, Dean <em>did </em>catch Sam prying, though nothing about his facial expression gave away that he was in any way, shape or form uncomfortable with the gesture.</p>
<p>“What did I miss?” Cas asked, already digging into the bowl. Dean couldn’t but wonder if he was truly oblivious to the conversation that had unfolded, because he knew Cas was still a celestial being and could’ve overheard every single word had he wanted to. If he was being deliberate in playing the obtuse, Dean was grateful for it.</p>
<p>“Honestly, man? I got no clue. I got distracted by the concert you were throwing in the kitchen.” Dean muttered, trying to suppress a chuckle but the crinkle around his eyes gave away his amusement. And he <em>was </em>amused, by this new, carefree and beautifully human Cas. Not that there was anything wrong with the old – or any Cas, for that matter. But <em>this </em>Cas seemed happier and that was enough material to fuel week’s worth of Dean’s own happiness.</p>
<p>That remark got Cas’s attention, and his head slowly turned before their eyes met. Dean would’ve thought his heart would stop doing these leaps whenever they had stare-offs at barely few inches of a distance (because Cas’s notion of personal space still needed some work), but <em>here it was, </em>thundering against his ribcage rather prominently, making him ridiculously self aware. It’s not like Cas could read his mind or hear his bodily functions. That would be weird.</p>
<p>Then, Cas gently lowered his hand against Dean’s where it rested on top of the hunter’s knee. “It’s alright.” He responded in a voice all-too-soft, words carrying too much importance for what they are. Like Dean <em>needed </em>to know that it’s alright for him to be distracted. Or that it’s alright that he couldn’t retell the events of the documentary Cas was really hyped to see, but ended up missing at least a third of, only because Dean wanted more popcorn. Or whatever else Cas was trying to comfort him about.</p>
<p>“I guess we both get distracted by each other.” Cas added and <em>oh. Oh. </em>There it was, loud and clear – and unlike other times, unmistakable in its intent. The desire to just lean in and... It wouldn’t be anything more but a soft peck, a silent admission of ‘<em>yes we do’ </em>and ‘<em>you are who I want to live for’ </em>and ‘<em>this is what I want to trade my Friday nights out for’</em>.</p>
<p>He thinks there’s no way this isn’t happening now and he thinks he wouldn’t even mind Sam obviously staring at the scene unfolding, but nonetheless, his mind starts going into an overdrive and then he thinks maybe it’s all too much for one day and-</p>
<p>-and Cas just smoothly transitions back into watching the bees pollinate the flowers on the screen, somehow managing to look both oblivious of the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that just stormed right through Dean <em>and </em>understanding. Patient. <em>Certain</em>.</p>
<p>Dean only catches Sam’s warm smile with peripheral vision, but remains aware of it for the rest of the night.</p>
<p>He remains aware of the warm palm resting against his knuckles and bony fingers that have, sometime throughout the night, slotted themselves in between Dean’s calloused own, too.</p>
<p>He could get used to this emotional maturity thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
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